


I Could Make a Habit Out of You

by orphan_account



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-01
Updated: 2010-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I could make a habit out of you —Habit, Jump Little Children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Make a Habit Out of You

**Author's Note:**

> I like to affectionately call this "the little comment fic that could." It was originally supposed to just be a &gt;1000 word comment fic for any one of the Vampire prompts at the Fic Meme, but then I was me and that didn't happen. Adam was originally just going to bite Tommy and it was going to be sexy and dark and dub-con-y and that's all, the end. But then my hopeless romantic wanted in and I was like "Sure," only that pissed off my research nut and he muscled in going "Hey, but what the fuck do you know about L.A. anyway?" and the point is not that I have a split personality, but that the fic got away from me again. The moral of the story is that, when it comes down to it, this is probably how shit like Twilight happens.
> 
> Also, please pardon the deus ex machina. You'll know it when you see it, I'm sure. It might have been a better story if I hadn't used it, but I just cannot cope with unhappy endings, let alone write them.

Someone had been watching him _all night_ and when Tommy figured out who it was they were getting _cut_. He could feel it even through the throbbing of the bass in whatever techno remix was booming through the club. His arm and neck hair had been prickling for hours and he was close to snapping, which wasn’t fair to his friends who just wanted to show him a good time after his split with Jessica. Jes-_seek_-a as she’d always insisted. Fuck her, the pretentious fucking bitch.

“Hey man, I gotta piss,” he leaned over and yelled into Jon’s ear. Jon just waved him off. Tommy thought he saw something in his periphery but when he turned to look, whatever it had been was gone. He shook his head, tried to shrug off the ants crawling beneath his skin, and made his way to the men’s room.

It was jarringly bright after the darkness of the club, but blessedly empty. He used the urinal in the corner, then went to the dingy mirror and broken, cracked sink.

He studied his reflection. Too sharp features in a too thin face. Big eyes rimmed in black. Mia said they were whiskey colored, but Tommy figured she was being romantic—they just looked brown to him. He was thinking about buzzing his hair—Jessica had liked it long and Tommy could cut off his nose to spite his face as well as anyone.

“Okay Narcissus, get your head out of your ass,” he mumbled to himself, and turned on the tap. At least _Sting_ had running hot water, which was more than he could say for most of the dives in the area. He ripped off a wad of paper towel and dried his hands, turning to toss it in the trash.

And jumped about three feet. “Holy Shit!” he yelled, hand pressed to his pounding heart. He’d swear on whatever fucking holy book anyone wanted him to swear on that no one had been in this room. Well someone sure as hell was now. The man probably wasn’t freakishly tall normally, but Tommy was willing to bet he had a good three or four inches on his own five-eight, even without the skyscrapers on his feet.

“I didn’t see you there,” he said, still trying to bring his heart rate under control. It was freaking him out that the guy was just staring at him. “You…” Tommy said, then it clicked. “_You’re_ the fucktard that’s been staring at me all night!” he exclaimed indignantly. “What the fuck is your deal?”

The man (or The Man as Tommy was calling him in his head now and it didn’t have a goddamn thing to do with the government or corporate America) cocked his head and smiled. Funnily enough it didn’t ease Tommy’s gut one damn bit. _Breathe Tommy Joe, it’s just some freak, you’ve handled worse. Remember that one time Lushes started that brawl at a motorcycle bar? This guy ain’t shit._

“Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you are or what the fuck you want, but get the fuck out of my way.” He tried to bypass him, but the stranger stepped smoothly into his path. Unnaturally smoothly; one instant he wasn’t there, the next he was.

“I’m Adam,” and whoa. The dude had a voice, no matter how creepy he was. There was something almost musical about it that Tommy couldn’t quite describe, but it rang in his bones.

“Adam. Right. Hi. Now can I…?” He tried to step around him, but he froze when one of Adam’s ice cold fingers touched his face, cupping his jaw. Tommy shivered. People weren’t supposed to be this cold; not amidst the heat and the swelter of an L.A. club.

“I don’t think so, Little Tommy Joe. You and I have business,” he murmured, cool breath in Tommy’s ear. That’s the exact moment Tommy’s eyes flickered to the mirror above the sink.

The mirror in which Tommy was alone.

He braced himself and shoved. The fucker didn’t move much, but enough for Tommy to duck away and put some space between them. “What,” he said, breath coming fast, adrenaline flooding his bloodstream. _Fight or flight_ some distant memory whispered; probably seventh grade health class. Mrs. Murcos had had some _fine_ tits.

“What the fuck _are_ you?” he finished. He glanced over at the mirror, and yep, still no _goddamn reflection_, what the mother fuck? What had Jon put in his drink? That shit bag, he was getting his ass kicked into an alternate universe.

‘Adam’ raised his hands, palms open in the universal gesture for “it’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” but his gaze told a different tale all together. It was like a laser, boring into Tommy with the unmistakable air of a predator, and Tommy’s muscles were bunched to _move_. Tommy was small and he was fast. First chance he got, he was making a run for it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Adam said, and how the hell could he make his voice so soft and soothing like that when everything else about him screamed that he was stalking his prey?

“Yeah, like I’m gonna believe that, with you trapping me in here and not letting me go, and all. Oh, and _you don’t have a fucking reflection_!”

“So I don’t,” and the bastard actually smiled and it just wasn’t fair that he had a smile like Christmas morning, open and delighted.

Tommy shook it off. “So what the fuck are you supposed to be, a vampire or something?” All of a sudden he wished he’d had something really, really garlicky for dinner.

Adam’s smile didn’t disappear but it did go distant, as did that unnerving stare. “Nightwalker,” he corrected. “Vampire is such an ugly word,” he murmured.

Now, Tommy might have wondered what that meant, but he wasn’t some fucking tabby cat with more curiosity than common sense, so he used the opportunity to dart for the door; he could make it, he knew he could.

Except, apparently, he couldn’t because instead of slamming _out_ the door he slammed _in_to a wall of leather and flesh. Hands clamped down hard on his forearms and lifted him far enough his toes no longer touched the ground and he was scant inches from eyes blue like the heart of a fire. He didn’t fight—he couldn’t, he was pinned down.

Adam tutted at him disapprovingly. “Didn’t I tell you Pretty Tommy? We have business.” Then Adam kissed him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Tommy woke up in his own bed, sweating, thrashing, panic following him to wakefulness, but unfortunately not the reason for said panic. He quieted when he recognized the very familiar cracks in the ceiling.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked the empty room. Stunningly, the room didn’t answer.

He got up and shuffled out to the kitchen. Jon was no where in sight so he was probably still passed out. Man, he must have been _wasted_; he couldn’t remember a fucking thing about last night. He got a cup of yesterday’s coffee and popped it into the microwave, then went over to check the answering machine. The LED was blinking “3” at him and he hit the play button.

“Tommy, this is Mom, call me when you get this, honey. Your sister told me what happened and I’m so sorry. Love you, talk to you soon. Bye”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but kept the message.

“Tommy Joe Ratliff! I want you to tell your punk-ass friends to stop prank calling me or I swear to God I’ll sue you all for harassment. And Jon you fucking asshole, I know you’re the one who put that bologna on my car. God, you’re both such immature shi—”

Tommy stabbed the delete button like it’d called his mama a whore, and went to the beeping microwave. He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. Fucking Folgers did _not_ keep well, that was for damn sure.

“HEY ASSHAT. Nice of you to leave and not let any of us know.”

Tommy frowned. That was Jon and he recognized the cacophony in the background as muted club music. Probably from outside. What the fuck?

“I’m totally kicking your ass when I get home, Mia’s ready to call in the fucking National Guard or some shit. Call whenever you drag your skinny ass in. Fucker.” BEEEEEEEP the thing shrieked, causing Tommy to wince.

“Suck my dick,” Tommy muttered resentfully, but it was half-hearted. If he hadn’t been with Jon and Mia and the crew, where the fuck _had_ he been? He couldn’t remember _anything_ and that was pretty suspicious in itself. Tommy got wasted, but he’d never had an actual blackout before. “Fucking weird,” he said aloud. The total lack of activity in the apartment was starting to freak him out.

Then something moved in the corner of his vision and Tommy flinched. His heart was racing so loudly in his ears he didn’t even feel the splash of hot coffee on his hand.

It was just his reflection in the mirror on the inside of the hall closet. “Tommy, you need to take a fucking chill pill, dude,” he berated himself. But something was niggling at his memory. Something…

The tension was getting to him, and he didn’t even fucking know why he was tense. He jerked his head to the right, then to the left and _holy shit_ what the fuck was that? A bolt of pain shot through his body, radiating outward from right under his jaw. He touched it gingerly, but he couldn’t feel anything. He walked over to the mirror and tilted his head up.

He had a fucking hickey the size of Nevada on his neck.

Which, of course, was when his memory of the previous night decided to flood back, almost physical in its impact, and he rocked backward, dropping his mug to the carpet.

“Shit! Holy fucking mother of Mary fucking shit! I met a motherfucking vampire. Shit.”

Something. Something something something… in his pocket, right. It was a business card, and he remembered Adam pressing it into his front pocket, almost a caress, but only almost, and whispering into his ear, “Don’t be a coward pretty baby.”

The front of the card was emblazoned with shiny black script—“FEVER” On the back was scrawled an address and “Be there by 10. Only you.”

Tommy slid down the wall. “I am so fucked,” he whimpered.

*~*~*~*~*~*

But fucked or not, he still had to eat. He threw on the cleanest uniform he could find and dragged himself to the little hole-in-the-wall diner where nobody cared about his tats, because the customers were either seeing the world through beer goggles, or they were too fucking hung-over to give a shit whether the arm attached to the hand giving them coffee was inked or not.

In retrospect, his own lack of splitting head pain and constant mid-grade nausea should have tipped him off that last night hadn’t been a typical bender. Tommy was incapable of drinking himself stupid and _not_ paying for it with a hangover. It kept him from raging alcoholism, so he wasn’t actually that resentful.

Tommy hated his job, but it paid the bills and sometimes the Ricky O, the afternoon short-order, would share a joint with him behind the dumpster. And Maggie-the-day-manager treated him like the step-son she’d never had and let him fuck off sometimes, so it wasn’t unbearable.

Tommy made it through his shift on sheer will-power, and when he got home he holed up in his room with his guitar and played every song from _Master of Puppets_ by memory. It was his version of brooding.

Jon got home around seven, and they had a screaming match that ended with Jon locking himself in his room and playing music loud enough that the windows shook. Tommy was restless and irritable, spoiling for a fight. Tommy was restless and irritable, spoiling for a fight. It wasn’t fair to take his bad mood out on Jon, and he knew it. He just couldn't seem to help himself, the need to_ do something_ was like an itch under his skin.

So what did that leave? He glanced at the clock. Eight. Two hours until…

No, fuck no, he was absolutely _not_ going to what was probably some fucking necromancer club to sate his curiosity about a possibly-undead pervert. It wasn’t going to happen.

Except that an hour and a half later the cab was dropping him off in front of _FEVER_, hair fixed, eyes lined, and tarted up in a mesh top and leather pants that made him _look_ like he had an ass, even if he didn’t.

He took a deep breath and crossed the street, headed down the sidewalk to the back of the (fucking long-ass) line.

“Mr. Ratliff!”

Tommy turned around. It was one of the outside bouncers. “Mr. Lambert asked that you be escorted in personally. If you’ll come with me?” but the bouncer didn’t wait for his assent, just moved quickly through the crowd of people. Tommy rolled his eyes, but followed.

When they got inside, Tommy blinked. It was…well, to be honest it was like every other club he’d ever been inside. Maybe cleaner and with a classier crowd, but still: a club. People danced, people talked, people drank, people passed X and poppers. And over it all the music beat down on everything and the lights flashed, exposing everything and revealing nothing. It was what Tommy loved most about dance clubs, the fact that everyone could see everyone else and still remain completely anonymous.

His escort had disappeared, so Tommy wandered onto the dance floor, drawn by the beat. Tommy breathed in the music, let his eyes close and his body move where it took him. He had several partners but none of them imprinted. He wasn’t there for _them_, he was there for the throb pounding through him, for the feel of his heartbeat synching to the rhythm as he moved harder and the music spun him out of himself.

“I love to watch you dance!”

Tommy’s eyes flew wide open and he stumbled, forced into a different rhythm too quickly. Adam steadied him and smiled; that stupid fucking smile like he’d never so much as had an impure thought. He started moving and Tommy followed after a moment. Following a partner in dance wasn’t so different from following a bass line.

“I knew you’d come!” Adam yelled, just a tiny trace of smugness on his face now.

Tommy scowled. “There wasn’t anything better to do!” he yelled back.

“I’m sorry I left you like that last night! As in everything else, this decision had to be yours!” Tommy thought there might have been a very slight emphasis on ‘everything else’ but he couldn’t be sure because it was kind of hard to tell when they were shouting.

“Come with me!” and with no further warning, Adam grabbed his hand and pulled him away, off the dance floor and up the set of stairs at the end of the nearest bar. Tommy didn’t bother to protest. He wasn't sure he really wanted to.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Nights in LA feel a lot like sex; hot and sultry and breathless. The heat wraps around you tight as a lover—whether it’s welcome or oppressive depends on the person. Tommy loved it. Loved the way sweat clung to his body and the air felt heavy in his lungs. He loved the way the heat made everything shimmer, just a little. And he loved this too, going outside where even the hot Santa Anas felt cool sweeping across his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms.

The roof was completely empty, removed from both the roar inside the club and the static of the city, though both run just underneath Tommy’s awareness. His focus was completely on Adam, who’d went ahead, black from head to toe like the fucking Batman or something. Downtown rose up in front of them—not close enough to smother, but not so far away that the location wasn’t trendy, which was probably calculated. Of course, that didn’t make it any less effective, the view was _stellar_. Adam leant over the ledge arms folded and body relaxed. Tommy follows his lead.

“Why couldn’t I remember last night when I woke up?” Tommy asked.

“Dunno. The experience is different for everyone. Maybe you weren’t ready to remember—the mind always seeks to protect itself, after all.”

“Don’t play stupid. What the fuck did you _do_ to me?”

“I didn’t drug you, if that’s what you’re asking. That’s against the rules. I just…took away some of your inhibitions.”

“_How_?”

Adam grinned at him sideways, sly and teasing, “That’s my little secret, pretty Tommy,”

“God, will you stop fucking calling me that?” Tommy was getting really tired of being talked at in Cryptic.

“Why? It’s true. I like to tell the truth, Tommy Joe.” Adam turned to face him. Tommy resolutely kept looking out at the city.

“I’ve never fucked around with a guy before. And you are a really fucking weird one to start with,”

Adam shrugged. “Actually, I think I’m fairly normal. For who and what I am, anyway,”

“And what the fuck is that? ‘What you are’—you are not seriously telling me you’re actually a vampire?”

“Nightwalker,” Adam corrected, “and yes, I am.”

“Like, not one of those posers who just really likes blood-play, but a real immortal-disintigrate-in-sunlight-allergic-to-garlic-get-burned-by-holy-shit-vamp—_nightwalker_?”

Adam threw his head back and laughed, free and delighted. “Well, it’s not as dramatic as all that. Immortal…we’ll say yes because that’s complicated. Fatally vulnerable to sunlight, also yes. We don’t have any problems with garlic or “holy shit,” by which I assume you mean holy water and crosses and the like. Nightwalkers have existed for as long as humans have; why should religious symbols that appeared a few thousand years ago harm us?”

Tommy hadn’t actually thought about it that way. Of course he didn’t have much experience with freakin’ _vampires_, so. “But you do, like…drink blood?”

“That,” Adam said, “is the one thing all the books and movies got absolutely right.”

Tommy didn’t know what terrible flaw in his character made him say, “Prove it.” It was a dare and an invitation all at once. Tommy couldn’t say why, but he was absolutely sure, down to his marrow, that Adam wouldn’t hurt him. He did have enough self-preservation instinct left to say, “That you’re a vampi—nightwalker or whatever, I mean.”

“And how am I going to do that Pretty Tommy? Do you want me to bite you?” Adam’s voice was teasing, but his eyes were sharp, serious. Tommy didn’t know how to answer; didn’t know what he was feeling. Just that he’d been feeling this constant sense of _anticipation_ for the past few days at least, maybe even longer, and now it felt like an electric current running under his skin, like his whole body was a tongue touching a nine-volt.

He might have said yes. If he’s opened his mouth, he might have said yes, and fucked the consequences, but quick enough to make him dizzy Adam was moving. He slapped one hand over his mouth, while the other arm went around his torso and pulled Tommy into the shadows just as the door to the roof flew open and two girls stumbled out, laughing.

“What’s up here?” Tommy heard one of them ask when they moved closer.

The other smiled, and it sent chills down Tommy’s spine. “The view,” she answered. “And us,”

“Shhh,” Adam whispered in his ear, running a hand down his flank and resting on his hip. Its purpose might have been to soothe, but it just made him shiver harder. “I believe you’re about to get a demonstration. Can you be quiet?” Tommy nodded and Adam removed his hand.

“What do you mean?” he whispered back. He chose not to acknowledge the way Adam’s hand rested at his throat, since it wasn’t actually doing anything yet.

“Danielle is a Nightwalker. Hush now.”

Tommy did, and watched the scene unfold.

“Amanda is it?” Danielle purred. “I’ve been watching you _all_ night.”

Amanda giggled. “Really?” she flirted back. “I haven’t seen you,”

“It’s a seduction.” Adam murmured into Tommy’s ear, as the girls moved further down the roof, their voices becoming indistinct. “Danielle likes to sleep with men, but she prefers to feed from girls. Pretty young things; their blood is almost sweet.”

The girls were kissing, Danielle backing Amanda into one of the huge structures that were at intervals around the roof’s surface. Tommy couldn’t even appreciate the view properly because almost his entire concentration was on the voice in his ear and the way Adam’s thumb had begun to move, stroking over the point where his pulse had sped up. “I’m partial to them myself, actually, but boys are nice too. They can be just as sweet, with just a bit of tartness for flavor. Watch,”

Danielle’s mouth moved down Amanda’s face, trailing kisses along her jaw, and throat. Then suddenly she bit down, right at Amanda’s pulse point, and Tommy felt his own jump and begin to beat faster. Amanda moaned, tilting her head back, eyes falling closed.

“That moment of penetration feels just like being fucked, Tommy. A few seconds of pain, so sweet and deep you don’t know if you can stand it, and you want to move away because it’s so intense. But afterward, it’s so good, like liquid ecstasy flowing through your veins; it’s like an orgasm, except it lasts and lasts as long as the feeding does. It’s the best way to die, Tommy,”

Adam shifted behind him, nose nuzzling the fine hairs at the back of his neck, before his tongue came out, licking a wide stripe right between Tommy’s shoulders. “You want it. I can smell it on you, the lust and anticipation. But which do you want? To be fucked? Or to be bit?” Adam released him, both hands sliding under Tommy’s top, cold fingers and fingerless leather gloves warmed by the air. “Or do you want both?”

Tommy felt hazy, stunned. His cock was hard and uncomfortable in his pants and it was just like last night: Adam’s mouth soft and wet, his hands everywhere…and Tommy couldn’t move, his limbs felt heavy, weighted by how good it felt. And by how he didn’t _want_ to move.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to watch someone while they’re eating?”

Tommy jumped, and opened his eyes wide. He hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. Danielle was standing a few feet away, Amanda cradled in her arms bridal-style. A satisfied smirk played on her flushed face, the curved mouth stained deep red.

“You are such a fucking bitch,” Adam intoned flatly.

“That’s what you get,” Danielle fired back tartly, eyes flashing. _Literally_ flashing, some color that wasn’t quite natural.

Tommy jerked away—and almost fell on his face, because Adam wasn’t trying to hold him as Tommy had expected.

Danielle’s smirk widened. “He’s a pretty one,” she said to Adam, and then she was gone, the door slamming behind her.

Adam rubbed a hand down his face and groaned. “Her sense of timing is _impeccable_, as always.”

Now that Tommy had some distance, his head was beginning to clear. “Right. So it’s been…interesting, but I think I’m gonna just…go,” he gestured behind him, in the general direction of the door. But by the time he turned around, Adam was in front of him again. “Fuck! Will you stop fucking doing that?”

“But the night’s still young. What about the rest of your questions? I’m sure you have more. Don’t you want to know how long I’ve been watching you? Or why I cornered you last night? Or maybe why I’m so interested in you at all? Well?”

“I don’t know what you _want_ from me!” Tommy said, pissed and more confused than ever. “Will you just stop talking in riddles? ‘Cause I’m not smart enough to figure them out.”

“I want to bite you.” Adam said bluntly.

“You want to drink my blood. Okay, fine. Do it.” The answer was surprisingly easy, even though he couldn’t believe he’d just said that, like hey, yeah sure I’ll be your blood donor. What the fuck? But Adam wasn’t done.

“And I want to fuck you. I want to tie you up and make you beg and make you scream and make you come and then start all over again. I want to kiss you everywhere, then I want to go back and _bite_ you everywhere. I want to turn you, Pretty Tommy, so you’ll be mine forever. I want to teach you how to hunt, and how to sense who will taste best by the way they smell. I want to show you the Night world, the way humans can’t see it. It’s so bright and beautiful and intense.”

“You want to make me a vampire?” Tommy’s eyes widened. “I can’t. Adam, I—”

Adam interrupted, hurried and intense, but quiet, “Don’t say ‘no’ yet, don’t. You want it, I know you do, even if you don’t realize it. You’ve been feeling restless—like your skin is too tight. Like a craving you can’t satisfy. It’s been eating at you, making you irritable,”

Tommy stared at him. “My girlfriend just broke up with me, I think I’m allowed to be a little off.”

“Maybe, but that’s not what this is, and you know it. You felt it before. For months you’ve been going out of your mind without knowing why, waking up from dreams you barely remember but you yearn for them anyway.”

“How the fuck do you know that? How long _have_ you been watching me?”

“And _finally_ we get to the important questions. I don’t know why you’ve been fighting so hard, honestly. You came to my club last year, _Soaked_. The first time I saw you, you were dancing just like you were tonight—like you lived in the music instead of just hearing it or feeling it.” Adam reached a hand up and placed it on Tommy’s chest, fingers spread. It felt huge. “Some of the others had described it to me, what it’s like when you find your Kindred, but I’d never felt anything like it. It was a…like a—”

“—a connection. I remember. Like some string inside me I didn’t even know was there, pulling tight. I didn’t know what it meant.” Tommy raised his own hand, tentatively, and placed it over Adam’s. “Why’d you wait so long?”

“I had to make sure.” Adam’s eyes went distant, “I’ve thought I was sure before and been wrong.”

“So what makes you think you aren’t wrong this time?”

“Because when I look at you or touch you I have an extremely difficult time keeping myself from sinking my fangs into your neck and sucking you dry. I’ve wanted it before, but this _aches_. Please,” Adam raised his hand up to cup Tommy’s jaw. “Don’t say no.”

Tommy was really beginning to think he had some sort of sickness, because when Adam talked about biting him, a harsh need curled thick and tight in his belly. He wanted it; god, did he want it.

“What about my family?” Because of all the reasons not to say yes, that was the one, the big one—the only one keeping him from doing so.

Adam looked confused. “What about them?”

“They’re going to fucking notice if I don’t ever age. And I can’t just…they’re my _family_.”

“Tommy,” Adam gripped his shoulders and gave looked at him seriously. “I am not a vampire. I am not a character in a movie or a book,” he said, punctuating his words with an occasional little shake.

And then he…Adam _aged_. Midlife, elderly, decrepit, all in a few seconds, and with a blink he was back to his beautiful, fucking rock star-esque self, and “What the…fuck, what the fuck was that?” Tommy squawked dumbly.

“Forget everything you think you know. I told you—most of it’s wrong. You don’t have to give up _anything_. Or _anyone_. They’ll die, eventually. They’ll die while you’ll keep living unchanged, I can’t help that. But they never have to know if you don’t want them to, and you can be their Tommy as long as they live.

“And at the same time, and forever after, you can be _my_ Tommy.”

“I couldn’t… I mean, if they wanted it, I couldn’t turn them too?” Because he wasn’t going to lie, the thought of everyone he loved dying and leaving him _hurt_.

Adam smiled softly, and shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Nightwalkers can’t turn just anyone. Only if a human happens to be his or her Kindred, which happens very rarely. Most of us are born this way and find our Kindred among our own kind.”

“Oh. Then that’s how you knew the others were wrong?”

“No,” Adam said flatly. “I never tried to turn them. They didn’t consent.” Adam stepped back. He was pulling away, more than just physically, and how did it ever get to this? Tommy didn’t know why he cared so much; why the thought that Adam might go and he’d never see him again caused his throat to clog with panic.

“Wait! Adam, _wait_ a minute. Just…just give me a fucking second to breathe here. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about any of this except that I _want_ it. I don’t do shit like this. I’m not reckless, and I’ve never in my whole life wanted a guy, but I want _you_ and I’m having a little fucking trouble processing that, okay?”

Adam’s eyes _glinted_. “What are you trying to say?”

Tommy could feel the tension coiling between them, the leashed intent in Adam broadcast clearly in the way he’d become very, _very_ still. “I want…it. I want you to bite me. To make me…like you.”

“I already know that. And I want to taste you—badly, but are you prepared for the rest of it? I want to fuck you, Tommy. I want to sink into you at the same time I bury my fangs in your neck. I want _all_ of you, no hesitating, nothing held back, not ever. Can you give me that?” Adam hadn’t moved but seemed, abruptly, a lot closer.

Tommy sucked in air that suddenly felt too thick. “Yes,” he breathed. “_Yes_,” he said again, more firmly.

In the space of an instant, Adam was there, wrapping Tommy in his arms, so close there wasn’t enough room to breathe between them. Tommy thought Adam was going to kiss him, closed his eyes and lifted his face for it. The kiss didn’t come.

Instead, he felt like he was on a rollercoaster, hurtling along at an extreme speed, with twists and turns that made his stomach heave. When the feeling passed, Tommy’s eyes flew open and the vertigo hit him like a slap, so intense he thought he really might vomit.

“Whoa, easy.” Adam’s voice soothed in his ear, “I’ve got you. I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait.”

Oh and _then_Adam was kissing him. Slow and easy, not at all like the punishing kiss from last night, pulling back to nibble at his bottom lip until he opened up for it. “No fangs,” Tommy croaked, and Adam grinned against his mouth.

“Don’t need ‘em yet,” he said.

Adam was in a frenzy, the next few moments passing in a blur. Their clothes seemed to melt away, and then Tommy was tumbling onto the bed with an “oof!” as Adam landed on top of him, nuzzling his neck where Tommy could still feel the twinge of the hickey. Adam moved away from it reluctantly, sitting up and straddling Tommy’s hips. He felt that heated blue stare acutely, like a caress over his entire body, and couldn’t hide the shudder that passed through him.

“Pretty Tommy—_my_ pretty Tommy,” he whispered.

Tommy swallowed. “I told you not to call me that,” he said, when no other words would come.

“But you don’t really mind, do you?” Adam asked, reaching up and sweeping his two huge hands down Tommy’s torso, black fingernails scraping lightly, catching on each of Tommy’s nipples, making his breath snag in his chest. The hands continued down and down, past his ribs, his belly and stopping just short of his hard, begging cock.

“Do you want me to suck you, Tommy?” Adam crooned. “Do you want me swallow your cock and let you fuck my throat?”

Tommy made a guttural noise that might or might not have qualified as a whine. “I don’t care, I don’t _care_,” he moaned, “Just fucking _touch_ me.”

Adam obeyed, grasping the hard flesh in his huge, cool hands. The temperature was a shock, but the friction was _excellent_, and soon warmed everything nicely. He felt Adam shift but was too engrossed in his own body to pay attention, and he almost startled out of his skin when the dry hand was replaced by warm wetness, swallowing him slowly all. The way. Down.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_!” he cried out, trying to thrust. Adam’s hands on his hips kept him grounded, still, so all he could do was lay there and _take_ it and take it and take it. “Fuck! Shit! Holy fucking shit!” he babbled, hands flying into Adam’s silky hair so he could grasp his skull.

Adam waited for him to calm down, until Tommy’s involuntary twitching subsided into a quiver. Then he rose off slowly, initiating a steady rhythm Tommy could follow without much thought, and if he’d been able to think anything beyond ‘_so fucking good_, he’d have been grateful.

Tommy was noisy during sex, he knew he was. He moaned and groaned and whimpered and talked complete nonsense. Jessica had complained about it, claiming it distracted her, so he’d made a conscious effort to muffle himself. Adam gave a particularly vicious suck and Tommy bit his lip, threw his arm over his face to smother the loud moan.

Adam pulled off suddenly and Tommy moved his arm to look at him, bleary with pleasure. “Don’t do that,” he commanded. “I want to hear everything.” Then he went back down, adding a hand to the mix, worming it underneath to fondle Tommy’s balls.

He didn’t think he was exaggerating when he went ahead and named this the best blowjob he’d ever received. Adam seemed to just _know_ his body and played it like Tommy played his guitar or his base. He couldn’t even properly freak out when Adam’s fingers slid back further, stroking his taint before moving on to massage his hole. Tommy had the presence of mind to stiffen up a little, but his body went completely liquid again when Adam hummed around his erection, and he took the opportunity to wriggle his finger a little bit inside.

He pulled off again, and trailed kisses up from Tommy’s thigh to his belly. “Shh, just relax. Breathe, pretty baby, I’ve got you. It’s gonna feel _so_ good, I promise.”

Tommy appreciated the stream of encouragement, even though it wasn’t helping much. Without Adam’s mouth on his cock, there wasn’t anything to distract from the faint burn he could already feel in his ass. He didn’t really understand how having someone’s dick shoved up there could possibly feel _good_.

Adam pulled away, up and off the bed. “Wait here, don’t move.”

Tommy barely had time to think, _God, what the fuck am I doing?_ before Adam was back, pushing him into the mattress and mess of fluffy pillows, and kissing every thought other than _guh_ out of his head.

Tommy had thought Adam was serious before—he’d been wrong. Adam went back down on him again, but he didn’t tease this time. He took him right down to base and started a brutal, nearly constant suction. Tommy gasped, wanted _so badly_ to thrust, but Adam’s whole left forearm pressed across his hips, keeping him pinned.

His other hand slithered between his legs again, and there was no preamble this time—one cool, slick-wet finger slid into Tommy all the way. It was strange and uncomfortable, but his perceptions were too skewed to say it felt bad. _Nothing_ felt bad. All the sensations in his body were interconnected, so that when Adam pressed in and in and _in_ with another finger, and then another he couldn’t separate it from where Adam was sucking his brains out through his cock. It all just felt so incredibly _amazing_.

And then Adam touched something, some electric place inside Tommy, and pleasure flashed through him with the devastation of a tornado. It sucked the breath from his lungs, left his body wrecked in its wake. Already so close to the edge, there was no power on earth that could have kept Tommy from coming—so he did, long and hard.

He came back to himself panting, his whole body trembling with aftershocks, and Adam was hovering above him

“You are going to taste so sweet,” he whispered huskily. Tommy could smell himself on Adam’s breath and swallowed a moan, because that thought should _not_ have been as hot as it totally fucking was.

“Shit,” Tommy gasped. His brain was still mostly offline. The sum total of his thoughts at the moment could have been expressed in “Holy fucking shit.”

“Are you ready, my pretty boy?” Adam asked. He kissed him again, licked Tommy’s taste inside his own mouth for long moments. Then to the side, and down his jaw to his exposed throat. Tommy felt the scrape of what he could only assume were fangs, and he was suddenly totally present. Fear clamored for dominance in his head, a voice saying _Maybe this isn’t such a good idea_.

Then Adam was talking, and Tommy fought to concentrate on his words, “Do you remember what I told you, love? What it feels like? That it’s the best way to die, do you remember me saying that? Do you know why?”

“Why?” Tommy asked, grasping on to the soothing purr of Adam’s voice with all his might.

“Because you’re not _dying_ at all. You’re being _reborn_, and the world is so beautiful this way, you’ll wonder how you ever existed the way you were. Please, Tommy--_let_ me…”

“_Do it_ Tommy said finally and the answer was to two questions: Adam’s breath on his neck and Adam’s cock nudging up against his ass.

Adam curled up, reached down and pulled Tommy’s knees up, wrapping them around his rib-cage, rendering him wide open, defenseless. And when he thrust in, smooth glide of huge, hard, and hot, (and how was it so hot anyway, almost scalding, when the rest of Adam was so cool?) he leaned down at the same time and _bit_. At first it was just a sting—then it was an ache so sharp and deep Tommy felt woozy with it, opened his mouth to scream but he didn’t have the breath. Hands flying down to clutch at the sheets, twisting them up in his fingers. He couldn’t decide which was worse; his body being split open from the outside in or having his neck gouged, but just when he thought he’d reached his limit—that he couldn’t take anymore, that he was going to _really_ die from it—they subsided. Just a little, just a fraction, but enough that Tommy didn’t think he was in danger of fainting anymore.

Adam’s hand slid into Tommy’s hair urging his head back, baring the other side of his neck further to his attentions. Tommy let him. He felt light headed. The pain was dimming by the second, giving way to a liquid ecstasy radiating out from where Adam’s sucked at him.

Then Adam _moved_ just a shallow withdraw and equally shallow thrust, brushing against that still-sensitive spot inside him, and Tommy forgot pain had ever existed. He couldn’t remember through the pleasure consuming him. He didn’t know how, but his cock was reviving, rubbing between their stomachs.

Tommy had already come spectacularly, so this time felt much less urgent. Even as Adam’s momentum increased, Tommy felt like he was floating. _Probably the blood loss_, he thought hazily.

A few seconds later, just as Tommy’s vision was beginning to gray out, Adam tore himself away, breathing hard. He gave three sharp thrusts and moaned, “Fuck!” He was shuddering. “Just, just a minute, baby.” He stilled, balanced on his right elbow and brought his left wrist up to his lips. A second later blood, thick and dark, was flowing down his arm. He lifted it to Tommy’s mouth. “Drink,” he ordered.

Tommy’s gut revolted just a bit, but he wasn’t in any state of mind to refuse. He was so _thirsty_ all of the sudden. As soon as the coppery-sweet liquid touched his mouth, he was ravenous for it, suckling the wound with the zeal of an infant. It was warm and smooth and he _needed_ it, his instincts somehow knew.

“Good,” Adam panted a few breaths, “boy.” He was trembling, with the effort of staying still or something else, Tommy didn’t know. Didn’t care. He was gorging himself like he’d never tasted anything so _good_ in his life—maybe he hadn’t.

The tableau—him drinking and Adam watching him drink—went on for several moments. Then Adam said “Stop,” very softly. Tommy ignored him—he _couldn’t_, he wasn’t full yet. “_Stop!_” Adam snarled, and it reverberated through Tommy’s head like a gong had been struck. Then Adam braced himself and thrust his hips forward savagely, and Tommy let go of him on a gasp as pleasure zinged through him again. Adam began fucking Tommy in earnest then, each stroke driving him up the bed a little more. Tommy reached around Adam and dug his fingernails into his broad shoulders. They were the only things he could hold onto.

“So _good_,” Adam moaned into his ear.

Tommy felt as weak as a kitten, but he rallied his strength and fought for leverage; finally found some, and met Adam’s next push with one of his own. He cried out when the angle caused Adam’s cock to stab his sweet-spot head on. Adam noticed and reached down to shift one of Tommy’s legs a bit higher, and, _God_ that was it!

“Tommy. Come on, pretty boy, you’ve got to come for me.” Adam reached down and took Tommy’s cock in his hand, never slowing down, and began pulling at the same harsh rhythm.

A guttural whine ripped from Tommy’s throat. He was shaking apart, the orgasm curling in his gut, tighter and tighter and then it broke over him like a tsunami, so intense it swept his consciousness away with it.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Tommy woke up it was still night. And he was alone.

He shot up in the bed, and looked around. It was a different room from before. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he knew he was right.

He was wearing a heavy robe made of something softer and sleeker than terry-cloth. He got up and wandered out the door. He was following something, but he didn’t know what—the night was completely quiet; completely still. The space outside was open, except for the silhouettes of furniture—must be a loft, he thought. There were glass doors to one side, leading onto a terrace and that’s where he found Adam. He was wearing a robe identical to Tommy’s.

“Welcome back,” Adam said, not turning around. “You were gone longer than I thought you’d be.”

“Gone?”

“Dead.” Adam answered shortly.

“Were you scared?” Tommy joined him at the ledge, déjà vu running down his spine like a chill. The roof of _FEVER_ felt distant, even though it must have only been hours ago at the most.

Adam looked over at him. “A little,” he admitted.

Tommy bit down on a smile. “I feel great,” he offered. “Better than great.”

“Just wait until it takes hold for real,” Adam said, the brooding giving way to giddiness and that stupid smile of his. “I can’t wait to show you everything. What it means to be a Nightwalker; everything you can do that you couldn’t before.”

“What about everything I can’t? Guess I’m gonna have to switch to the graveyard shift at the diner, huh?”

Adam laughed. “I don’t think so,”

“I still gotta pay rent. If I can’t be out in the day time, I’ll have to work at night.”

“True, but not at the diner…” Adam actually looked nervous. Tommy waited for him to continue. “That’s actually something I meant to ask before. I have a band. We already have a guitarist, but we’ve been looking for a bassist for a while. Would you be interested?”

Tommy stared at him.

Adam apparently took that as the “Duh,” it was meant to be. “We can’t ever be famous. But we have regular gigs at several clubs, so you’ll get paid—_not_ that you’ll need it, since I’m wealthy beyond you’re wildest dreams and can buy you anything you want—but since I thought you might get bored being just a kept-boy, you might as well do something you love.”

He seemed to have run out of steam. He turned back to look over the city. Tommy got the distinct impression he was embarrassed. He wondered if Nightwalkers blushed ever. If not, that could be the most useful thing to come out of all of this. He hated his fair complexion.

“What’s the name?”

“What?”

“What’s the name of the band?”

Tommy’s conviction that Adam was embarrassed only deepened when he said “The Nightwalkers,” with just the slightest hint of defensiveness coloring his tone.

“Of course it is,” Tommy said flatly.

“It’s a good name!”

Tommy snorted in disgust and left the ledge, walking back to the door. He couldn’t really feel the heat of the night. He wondered if that was a side affect of his turning. If so, he was going to miss it. He reached for the handle, but before he could open it, two long arms were closing around him, pulling him back into a warm embrace. Well, he could feel that, he thought fleetingly.

“Thank you for letting me have you,”

“I don’t even know why you ever creeped me out, you’re just a big sentimental girl.” Tommy said when he could speak through the lump in his throat. Adam nuzzled the bite mark that still throbbed a little, now that Tommy was paying attention.

“You’re my Kindred. I’ve been waiting a long time for you—I’m allowed to be a little sentimental.”

Tommy leaned back into Adam. He had no idea what was going to happen now, didn’t know how he was going to deal with everything that had happened in the past two days.

But the restless feeling was gone. The world already looked brighter, and whether that was a result of his transformation or a result of finally being content for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know.

He couldn’t wait to find out. He couldn’t wait for Adam to show him.


End file.
